Morning Star
by Mina3
Summary: A visit to Caras Galadhon fills Arwen with much confusion and hope, as she encounters a star very different from her own.


Morning Star  
By Mina 

Following "To Cast a Shadow," a missing tale of Middle-Earth.  
(Reading the previous stories would greatly help in understanding this piece.) 

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

One hundred and eleven winters seemed an auspicious and daunting age to Arwen, who was called Undomiel by her people. She was no longer the child she had been eleven years earlier, nor was she troubled by the sorrows that pervaded the souls of her elders. Like her brothers, Elrohir and Elladan, she was free of such cares other than enjoying what Middle-earth had to offer. 

Noticing the change from grassland to trees made Arwen look around. She realised that the escort was wary as they began to pass into the borders of Lórien, and she wondered at the cause. It would be her second visit to her grandmother, and her mother's people, and she like her brothers was looking forward to what awaited them. Her father's retainers, though, were on edge; more than once she had seen hands stray to saddle bows and sword hilts, eyes darting about the golden woods. 

Briefly biting her lip, Arwen turned to Elrohir, who rode on her right. "Brother, what is it that they fear? Should we not be welcome in Caras Galadhon?" 

Elrohir's expression seemed to be a mix between her own confused joy and the unease of their fellows. "Perhaps you do not sense it, fair sister, but there is something in the woods this day that is…unusual. The trees are alive such as I never remember, and the winds speak of light and love. Even the stream is loud with joy, muting its splashes with sweet song." 

This only served to puzzle Arwen further. "Shouldn't the woods be filled with delight, though? Grandmother always speaks of the joy of the trees and animals. I fear I don't understand." 

Unable to find a suitable answer, Elrohir shook his head reined his horse back to fall in beside his brother. 

Frowning, Arwen continued to survey the woods on her own. What did Elrohir know anyway? After all, he hadn't come with her fifty years ago, when she had been a mere child, to begin training with their grandmother. Galadriel had taught her many things about the woods, about nature and the magicks of them. Why, they were probably things that even her father didn't know, and he was considered one of the wisest of all! 

_Fair are the woods in daylight bright  
The gold of the leaves that quiver  
Sweet are the winds that whisper songs  
Of love and joy and laughter_

The words reached her ears on the breath of the wind, and Arwen cocked her head to the side in curiosity. She understood it right enough, but the speech was odd; different from her own Sindarin and the High Quenya that her grandmother could speak. She glanced around to see if the others could hear the song as well, and was bemused by the fact that her escort now seemed enraptured when mere moments ago they'd been filled with trepidation. 

_Green are the leaves of the canopy  
With branches that reach to the sky  
Calm are the waters that murmur dreams  
Of hope and freedom and light_

"Who is that sings?" she asked at last, waiting for someone to answer. The voice was light and haunting, a child's voice and child's song, sung with a child's will and heart. In all of her memory, she had never heard anything like it. 

The horses had halted, as if they, too, were entranced by the sweet song. Arwen looked in askance to the head of the cavalcade. "Celedon, why do we linger here? The Lady will grow anxious if we do not arrive at our intended time." 

Celedon did not turn to look at her, which troubled Arwen more than she cared to admit. And his voice, when he spoke at length, was thick with emotion such as she had never heard from him before: sorrow, joy, fear, awe…and hope. "Forgive us, Lady Undomiel. It is as if the voices of the Valar have come to us again, here in these woods." 

The Valar…Valinor… Something within her chest tightened, and for a moment Arwen wondered if the land beyond the Grey Havens was really that special. If this unknown voice could so entrance Eldar lords… 

_I am of the trees, the wind and water  
I know well the soil of the earth  
For I am the star that shines over all  
Lasgalen Thranduilion, Anarion_

The voice drew closer, and Arwen craned her neck around Celedon for a better look at the trail ahead. A young Elf-lord sat easily in the saddle of a pearlescent grey horse that looked terribly familiar to her, hooves soft upon the forest floor as he proudly drew closer. She watched as the fingers of the wind trailed through the elven-youth's side-plaited blonde hair, the thin shafts of sunlight that filtered through the trees kissing the locks until they shone like new-minted gold and mithril. His clothing was simple woodland garb of greys and greens, and the bow across his back was like that of any other elf of the woods. In fact, at this distance, there was nothing terribly amazing about him except that he was so young and without escort or friend. 

As he drew closer though, she could still hear him humming softly. He nodded to her and her people in a courteous manner, his smile one of grace and kindness. So young, she thought…his skin glowed not at all, and though his eyes were as dark as flawless sapphire and his hair the gleam of polished metal, he appeared to her like any other elf of Caras Galadhon. 

She turned her head as he rode by, and caught the glint of metal at the last moment. She realised that he wore a tiara similar to her own, which caught the plaits at the back of his head up in a network of silver and gold, fresh gold-tinted daises lacing the network, chiming with sweet sound as shell-shards of mother-of-pearl clacked and swayed with topaz. Unusual… 

He turned off the trail into the woods, and once he was lost from sight the spell was broken. 

Her brothers were the first to speak. "What fair creature was that, who came forth from Caras Galadhon to greet us with such words of joy and mystery?" cried Elladan. 

"Joy, yes, but sorrow as well. I could feel it in my heart as he passed by; his eyes sat heavy upon me, and I could feel the weight of years upon him," spoke Elrohir, shed tears streaming down his cheeks. 

Arwen blinked in bewilderment. By Eru and Varda, had they all gone mad? Couldn't they see that the golden elf had been younger than herself? He hadn't even been Man-grown as Men counted the age of adulthood, let alone Elf-grown! 

She continued this pondering as Celedon signalled for the group to move forward again. She had never experienced such peculiar behaviour from her brothers or the Eldar lords that accompanied her before. It was most strange…_most_ strange indeed. 

Celedon motioned to her with a wave of his hand, and she rode forward, hoping that he was over the momentary spell of illusion that seemed to have overcome all her companions. But as soon a she saw his face, Arwen perceived that that was not the case. 

"My lady, upon further thought, I realise that I recognised the horse that Star-Lord rode upon. It was none other than the Maia-gifted horse, Asfaloth, gifted to King Thranduil of Greenwood-Great by Lord Glorfindel." 

Her brows knit together. "Surely you do not expect me to believe that…boy…was the great Thranduil?" 

Celedon smiled, and Arwen had to fight the urge to scowl; he was being patronising now, she could tell. "No, but he has three sons, two of which are near age with you, my lady. I think, perhaps, 'twas one of them." 

Glancing over her shoulder to her brothers, she did scowl; they were still mooning like young animals, looking back into the woods. "How could a mere Sindar-degenerated elf cause that?" she asked, not caring that she sounded haughty and rude. 

She was the Princess of Imladris, the Evenstar of her people, both Sindar and Noldor. She had been raised by the best teachers, by loving parents and siblings, adored and doted upon by all in her home…and afar, as well. 

Thus, Arwen knew that she had spoken the wrong words to Celedon when she saw his hands tighten upon his reins. 

"I ask you to please think more carefully before speaking, fair Undomiel. You may think the Silvan elves of Greenwood-Great to be lesser than us, but they are the masters of their own brand of power. They understand this Middle-Earth better than we ever will, for their souls are bound to it in the same way our own are bound to the call of Valinor." 

"I will, my lord." She bit her lip, looking down at her hands knotted in her lap. Perhaps one hundred and eleven years was still too young, after all. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Arwen had regained much of her spirits by the time they reached the sunlit hold of Caras Galadhon. Forbearing dignity, she slid from her horse's back with a peel of silver laughter at the sight of her grandmother and grandfather, racing towards them with the energy of pent up frustrations that desired release. 

"Grandmother!" 

With a gentle smile, the tall woman of fair gold enveloped her with arms and sweet perfume, and Arwen sighed. Galadriel's peaceful demeanour gave her comfort, and the troubles she had met at the border slid from her mind. 

After a moment, she was held at arm's length. Galadriel smiled upon her, brushing dark curls from her cheek. "You are even more beautiful than I remember, my child." 

Blushing, Arwen ducked her head. "Thank you, my lady. I fear that I shall never measure to your own radiance, however." 

Her grandmother laughed as Celeborn joined them. "Did you hear, my lord? Our granddaughter thinks that she will always stand in my shadow." 

Celeborn smiled, clasping Arwen's hand and placing a kiss upon the knuckles. "And why should the fairest of Evenstars wish to outshine the Golden Wood, when they might shine equally and hold equal value in the hearts and eyes of their people?" 

She thought upon his words, and soon found herself in concurrence. What use was there in wishing to be like her grandmother when the Valar had gifted her with mahogany tresses and eyes of green-flecked blue? She should be grateful for what she had, for what she held…and the more that she thought upon it, Arwen realised that she was. 

"Thank you, Grandfather. I fear that I had a momentary lapse and forgot to be thankful for what I already have." 

Celeborn's smile grew, and Arwen held a secret wish in her heart: that whatever lord she eventually chose to give her heart to would be even half as handsome and half as kind as her grandfather. "We all have such moments of forgetfulness, child. But, come---there is a welcome reception for all of you, and I would hate to keep you from the festivities." 

Elladan and Elrohir joined them as they began to walk up the steps to the main bowers, speaking with the archers that had greeted them as fellow warriors. A part of Arwen envied them; it seemed that wherever they went, her brothers quickly found friends and compatriots, while she was left to merely smile and wish for such things. 

They began through a long line of greeters and well-wishers, and Arwen quickly pasted on a smile. It would not do to let those of Lórien think that she was ungrateful for what they had done to make her feel welcome. 

Nearly to the end, Elladan spoke up to all within hearing, and Arwen wished that she had more of her father's Foresight, for she would have stopped him from speaking has she known what he would say---and what trouble his words would cause. 

"Grandmother, I do not wish to be rude or overly inquisitive, but we met with some strangeness during our journey that I feel I must ask you about." 

"And what is that, Elladan?" Arwen envied her grandmother's grace and patience; had her brother been all but begging at her elbow, Arwen would have been tempted to knock him over. 

"Upon entering the borders of fair Lothlórien, we met with a strange elf. His grace and bearing were such that I can scarcely speak, fair of face and voice, possessed of both joy and sorrow that I cannot understand! He was the loveliest of golden creatures---as much as it pains me to say, dear lady, he 'twas a rival of your beauty and grace. Though dressed as any of the woodland kin, he seemed a prince of the Star-Lords in our eyes. Pray tell, dear Lady, of who this stranger was. We of Imladris are most curious and would give him our greetings if we could." 

Arwen's eyes grew large as she glanced between her brother and grandmother. Galadriel had tensed as Elladan spoke, and from the frosted look in those pale blue eyes, she knew that what Elladan had asked was affronting. Wishing to fix the problem before it became worse, she quickly cut between her brother and Galadriel with a pained smile. "If 'tis a painful issue, my lady, please don't think upon it. Elladan was hasty in his speech and did not mean to offend you." 

Galadriel smiled, but Arwen couldn't help but notice that the corners of her mouth and eyes were tight. "Elladan did not ask in impertinence, Arwen. I fear, though, that his question is not a simple one…and that I may not know the entire answer." 

They turned away from the line of people and drifted towards a table of refreshments. Grasping a slender flute of wine, Galadriel took several small sips before she spoke. 

"First, answer me this: Did this Star-Lord ride upon the Maia-gift horse Asfaloth?" 

Arwen gasped, turning to look behind her. Celedon spoke with a group of hunters, unaware of her perusal. However, her reaction was apparently enough for her grandmother to take as an answer. 

Long, slender fingers tightened about the thick glass stem. "I see." 

Elrohir clasped his twin's arm as Elladan turned away in shame. "We are sorry, grandmother, if our question is troubling. We will withdraw it if it will make you smile in joy once again, as you did when you greeted us." 

Galadriel did smile, and though it was not forced, there was much sadness and weariness in her face and voice. "Do not withdraw your question, dear Elrohir, for it is a fair question and must, eventually, be answered. I fear, though, that it cannot be now. Ask me again in the morning, and I shall provide proper responses. This I promise you." 

It was very much a dismissal, and before either of her brothers could protest, Arwen curtsied, grabbed her brothers' sleeves, and began to lead them in the direction of their customary quarters. 

"What were you thinking?" she hissed to them both, scowling as they trod up the spiral stair work. "Could you not see how much your question upset grandmother? Yet still you persisted… Ooh, I should tell father!" 

Her pace was quick, as was her breathing. She couldn't believe their audacity! 

"Pray, dear sister, slow your pace," said Elladan. Both were struggling to keep up, a fact that would have been comical had Arwen not been so angry. 

Upon reaching their destination, she pushed both into the room and stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips. "Must you always try my patience so when we leave home?" 

Elladan smiled ruefully, rubbing his arm. "Ah, but you are a fair vision to behold when angered, dear sister." 

"And as fierce as twenty warriors," added Elrohir, looking at her as if trying to figure a way around her. 

With a sigh of defeat, she threw her hands into the air. "Fine, I shall cry defeat. But I cannot tolerate your amusements right now, and nor can I tolerate the festivities when I am so angry with you. I'm going for a walk in the woods to the north, towards the March Warden's glen. I shall return when I am properly appeased." 

The twins grinned, and her scowl deepened. Huffing, she whirled on her heel and set off for the north gates. Brothers could be so infuriating! 

~*~*~*~*~*~

The walk to Haldir's glen was peaceful, and for that Arwen was extremely grateful. It had afforded her time to think upon what had occurred, and to isolate the source of her true confusion and anger. 

It had been the blonde elf from before, the one that had addled everyone into a state of inanity. Between the actions of her brothers and escort, to the behaviour and confusing words of her grandmother, she was fair vexed with the whole situation. 

She paused beside the thick and ancient aspen that housed Haldir's dwelling in its branches, peering around. The trees were bright with first autumn's colours, the wind carrying the faintest hint of chill. Not that it was easy to tell when autumn was coming to Middle-earth from within the safety of Lothlórien; her grandmother's magic kept much of the fouler weather at bay, and so the Golden Wood was near always golden. 

A pair of doves cooed to one another from overhead, and a lark trilled in counterpoint. She smiled, closing her eyes and inhaling the sweet scent of blooming flowers carried on the air, crushed grass and snapped twigs baring sap. It was beauty in its simplest form, the fruits of the earth and love. 

Laughter of pure delight, peels of a bell struck in sweet, sharp notes from cast silver and gold rang out overhead, startling her. Eyes flying open, she pushed away from the tree and looked about, gaze flying up into the branches above. 

Her eyes sought and found a solitary figure perched on the first limb up, legs idly swinging in the air. She gasped upon recognising him, thoughts immediately returning to anger and confusion. "What are you doing here?" she asked, frowning as she placed her hands on her hips. She hadn't expected anyone to be in the secluded glen that housed the March Warden's home, let alone the stranger from earlier that had so unsettled her companions and grandmother. 

The slender young blonde smiled down at her, and Arwen was surprised to see that his eyes were a more exotic shade of blue than she had originally thought, shaded with hints of twilight purple and starshine. 

"I'm visiting," he said, and she thought she detected a hint of mischief in his clear voice. "And what are you doing in this hidden bower, fair lady?" 

…What an audacious child, to question her actions so! Drawing herself up and smoothing her dress, Arwen addressed the impertinent stranger with barely concealed impatience. "I am Arwen, daughter of Lord Elrond of Imladris and Celebrian of Caras Galadhon. The Lady Galadriel is, therefore, my grandmother, and I am here to visit and learn from her." 

The young man dropped from the tree to the ground in a graceful manner, quietly picking leaves from his clothes. He left the ones that had attached themselves to his hair alone. It was a waterfall of near-waist length tails, braids, and free-flowing locks that seemed like capture moonlight combined with molten sun. Even more flowers decorated the silver and gold net than previous, colours of ivory, pale pink, yellow, and blue adding to the scheme of the leaf-fall. The bow and quiver he'd carried earlier were not in sight, but the hilts of twin long knives peeked over his left shoulder. 

Young and highborn…and a warrior as well. She decided that he was full Silvan, most likely of Sindar descent in the distant past as a number of Silvan kind were. But given the curious and not at all deferent air he was looking her over with, he was most likely from a branch of the Avari---and, therefore, most definitely not an Elf of Caras Galadhon. 

She started to scowl again, preparing to reprimand him, when he suddenly began to laugh, thus derailing her thoughts. 

"So you are the fair Evenstar!" His smile was open, genuine, as he clasped his hands before him and bowed in a truly reverent and gallant fashion. "Pray, forgive my curious eyes then, Lady. Word of your beauty 'tis but mere legend in our great wood---and 'tis fair strange for me to view an elf of midnight-wood hair and blue-sky eyes." 

Mouth closing, Arwen's eyebrows settled into a frown. It would, perhaps, seem egotistical for her to wonder…but how could this young "prince" not know of her? 

"You have me at a loss, wood youngling," she said slowly. "You know of who I am; will you not return the same courtesy?" 

"Youngling, Lady Evenstar?" he repeated with a laugh. Stretching carefree hands up towards the canopy of green and gold, he said, "Ai, young in presence, perhaps, but not in years or heart. We share a birth star, you and I, that be but a score of years apart. If I be a youngling, than you be but a child---and I think, perhaps, that is something you no longer are." 

His words were not a dance of confusion intentionally, but nonetheless it took Arwen several moments to grasp what he said. "Surely we are not that close in age!" Her eyes were critical as she looked him over one more time. "You seem to my eyes much younger than I." 

His smile was one of dawn's delight, and despite her reservations she found herself both intrigued and drawn to him. "Appearances are ever deceiving, much like the seasons of this Middle-earth. Truly, my Lady, while I cannot explain in a manner that would appease your curiosity, I have it on authority that I am, in truth, your elder by that score." 

Her eyes widened. "Appease my curiosity? Please, young master, even if you feel the answer beyond my grasp, I beg you explain anyway! Such a thing is impossible by all the laws of our race that I thus know." 

"My explanation lies with the trees of my home. Even as the smallest, most slender of saplings may seem but a few years in age, the laws of sun, earth, and rain govern its growth." He laughed again, amusement apparent as well as wry humour. "I fear that the weather has been terrible of late and I have had not the chance to "grow" as I should. I am a stunted sapling compared to my brethren of similar age." 

"A stunted sapling, are you? 'Tis more like a runaway rogue, young Prince!" 

Arwen gasped in recognition as Horse-Lord Glorfindel strode through the forest, Asfaloth and another horse of iron-grey striding behind him. "Lord Glorfindel!" 

The tall and fair Watcher of Imladris smiled and bowed to her in brief fashion before rounding on her companion. "To leave the hall of your father without word, to escape from the watch of your siblings and the gate wardens without being seen… Truly you are the most accomplished of your father's children---and for that, you should be fair beaten upon your return!" 

Rather than appearing chastised, though, the unnamed prince laughed and moved unhurriedly to Glorfindel's side. "Was father very angry? I did tell him that I wished to view trees not our own for once." 

"Ai, shy heart, but did you expect him to rouse all of Amon Thranduil to search for you?" 

This time the blonde did frown. "Please say that you managed to dissuade father of that. I had sent word ahead to Haldir that I wished to view the Golden Wood, and he agreed to be my guide." 

Glorfindel laid a gentle hand to the Silvan elf's brow, fingers lightly caressing the escaped tendrils of hair. "Ai, young Legolas, that I did. When I realised that you had relieved the stable of Asfaloth, I, too, sent word to Haldir to ask if he had heard from you. When he reported true, I set out after you." 

Legolas sighed and smiled ruefully. "I suppose that a day of freedom is a great enough victory for now." 

"I should hope. If we do not return this day, your father will make good on his threat and set out after you himself. It would be best if you returned with me now." 

Arwen's gaze moved in puzzled fashion between the two, her mind slowly piecing things together. Asfaloth…the horse of King Thranduil, gifted by Glorfindel…Amon Thranduil…the hall of Greenwood-Great's Silvan elves… 

"Who are you, strange lord?" she found herself asking aloud. Her eyes widened, for she had not meant to speak her thoughts. 

Legolas' smile was kind, and in his expression she began to read the age and cares that her brothers had already seen. "I am the elements of this Middle-earth, from the wind and water to the earth and green leaves. I am Greenwood's star to shine over all things---Legolas Thranduilion, the Morning Star." 

She did not speak for a moment, and wondered at Glorfindel's look of fear and awe as he motioned for Legolas to speak no further. "You call yourself a Morning Star, and indeed you are fair." She bit her lip, looking for the words she wished to say. "But I fear I do not understand. Why, Lord Glorfindel, do you wish not to let me hear this? Why do you ask him not to speak further?" 

Turning away, Legolas buried his face into Glorfindel's chest in a very childish manner, belying his earlier words to her, making her wonder further. "It is not that I do not wish you to hear what he would say, Lady Arwen," said Glorfindel. "It is that I fear this is not the time and place…and I fear he is not the one to speak the words you need to hear." 

"Who, then, shall speak?!" Frustration made her voice strained, hands knotting before her. "Twice this day have riddles been spoken of Legolas, son of Thranduil. To be the Lady Undomiel is to be the fairest and most prized jewel of my people, but when he spoke…the way I saw your eyes alight upon him… What is this 'Morning Star' in truth that it is so much more than the title of Evenstar?" 

Legolas began to tug on Glorfindel's sleeve. "Glorfindel, we should leave if we are to reach the borders by nightfall." He began to move to the horses, and she noticed that Asfaloth already bore his pack, complete with bow and quiver. 

She clenched her teeth, tears making her eyes burn and anger making her cheeks flush. "Will you not answer me?" 

She felt a hand clasp her shoulder, and turning her head she found that Haldir had returned to his hidden home and was watching Glorfindel and Legolas with a shuttered expression. "Please, milady. I know that this must be most hard for you to understand right now, but the Anarion and Lord Glorfindel are both forbidden to speak of such matters." 

"But…" 

"The Noldor Witch." 

Arwen turned back to Legolas as he spoke. His expression, too, was closed, but his strange twilight eyes burned into her…through her…and Arwen took heed of his words. "And who is this Noldor Witch that you speak of?" 

He smiled, and she read amusement and cynicism. "Why, the Lady of these woods. I mean no disparagement upon your kin, but that is what she is. She has your answers, though she will not part with them willingly." 

Her grandmother…the Noldor Witch? She had never heard such a thing spoken of wise and beautiful Galadriel of the Woodland Realm. And why hadn't Lord Glorfindel chastised the boy for being insolent concerning his elders and an Eldar? If she had spoken of Erestor or Círdan in such a manner… 

"Dear Arwen." 

Glorfindel's voice drew her from her thoughts, and she looked towards him one last time in askance. 

He stood beside Asfaloth, the grey horse at his side as it waited patiently for the Horse-Lord to mount. One hand lay upon Legolas' hand, entrenched in the thick, white mane; the other gestured to her in farewell. She raised her hand as well, swallowing the lump in her throat. 

Once mounted, he and Legolas set off down the game trail, slowly disappearing from sight. She clutched her hands to her chest, unconcerned that the tears she had earlier fought had finally found release. 

"Milady?" 

"Why Haldir?" Her voice was thick, and it echoed the feelings in her heart and soul. "I know not what I just witnessed, what I just heard. I know that I do not know everything…that I, perhaps, truly know nothing at all. And yet…as I watch him ride from view…I feel as if I have somehow been diminished. He is not so great in being, and yet he is the greatest of our kind I have met. He is not as fair in face as grandmother, and yet he is fairer than any jewel or star I know. He is---" 

"He is the Morning Star." Haldir stood in front of her, and his gaze was kind and understanding. His hands were gentle as they took her up, kissing the knuckles. "And if you wish to know more than that, you must press the Lady Galadriel for answers. None of the Galadhrim are allowed to speak of this, and few of Imladris know the tale. Even your father does not know, for Thranduil feared to speak of it lest the Golden Lady found out too soon through your mother." 

"My grandmother is a good woman." 

It was meant as a statement, but the quaver of her voice made it a question---a fact that Haldir did not fail to miss. 

"Lady Galadriel is wise and very powerful. Like many of the great Eldar Lords from Valinor, it has made her a two-edged sword. She feels that she knows what is best for Middle-earth because of her years and vision. It is true that she much helped our woods after the death of Lord Amroth, that she gave hope again to these people. With the aid of Nenya, she has given us peace and prosperity in plenty. 

"But she is not of Middle-earth, not as you or I who were born here…and not as the Silvan of Greenwood-Great, who are bound to the fate of Middle-earth and no longer hear the call of Valinor. They have no Ring of Power, my lady; they have only the hope of their Morning Star." 

Arwen dropped her gaze to the forest floor, watching as the breeze stirred a few fallen leaves of gold. "Thank you, Lord Haldir." Looking back up, she smiled and curtseyed. "If you will please excuse me, I shall go and seek my grandmother." 

Haldir nodded. "Good luck then, fair Evenstar." 

She said nothing further as she gathered her skirts and prepared to head back to the sanctuary of Caras Galadhon, but in her heart, she hugged those words…and prayed they would be enough. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

By the time she had finished wending her way through the twisting trails that led back to Caras Galadhon, night had begun to fall. The tree bowers were lit with lamps of both flame and light, and the stars formed a speckled backdrop when Arwen lifted her head to gaze at the sky. 

She ignored the lords and ladies making merry amidst the ground-level floors, the strains of harp and woodwinds making soft and lulling counterpoint to the rapid beating of her heart. She smiled and nodded to her brothers when they saw her, raising a hand to tell them that they were forgiven…and that she had something to do before she joined them. 

Finding her grandfather alone on his throne, she paused long enough to ask the whereabouts of her grandmother. He looked her over critically before a tired smile made its way to his handsome face. 

"In the lowest eastern glen, child. She is with her mirror." 

Arwen nodded and thanked him, hurrying on her way. 

Twilight fell to shades of deeper blue and black, fading and blending into the velveteen substance of true night. The trees were shadowed with secrets and lies, and they whispered in Arwen's ears and pulled at her heart. Did she know the truth? Had she _ever_ known the truth? 

Would her life continue to be filled with lies? 

Galadriel's hands were placed on the stone rim of the mirror, her long golden hair shadowing her face from view. Arwen's steps slowed as she approached, her hands knotting in her skirts once again. "Please forgive my intrusion, Grandmother, but---" 

"You have met him, then." 

The words were soft, and bore neither reproach nor accusation. When Galadriel looked up, her smile was as welcoming as it had been earlier when they had first ridden into Caras Galadhon. She moved back from the mirror and sat gracefully upon a bench that had been grown and moulded from the living root of one of the great trees. She gestured to Arwen and placed her hand upon the bench next to her. 

Telling her trembling limbs that all was well, Arwen sat down next to her grandmother, and waited for the great woman to speak. 

A fair, white hand was held out before her, the crafted ring Nenya flashing in the starlight. "This was crafted by a man who once loved me," Galadriel said softly. "But I did not love him---indeed I spurned him most cruel when he was only kind and true to me. Celebrimbor, the greatest of Elvish smiths. Even the dwarves recognised his skill with jewel and metal." 

She paused her narrative, hand returning to her lap. "Some say that I married Celeborn to spite him. Perhaps I did, though I do love my husband dearly. Celebrimbor was a reminder of the past I had left behind in Valinor…the land I am denied in exile for the folly of my uncle, Golden Fëanor. Still, though, he crafted for my hand the Elessar…and then Nenya." 

"Elessar?" Arwen questioned. "I have not heard you speak of this before." 

Galadriel smiled, and her eyes were distant, as if dwelling on far-gone days. "Before the idea was birthed for the Rings of Power, I desired to bring to Middle-earth a taste of the beauty of Valinor. I greatly missed the great trees and woods of my home, the bounty of flowers and fruits and all growing things. Celebrimbor…he crafted for me the Elessar, the "Elf Stone" that granted my wish for things to grow. It was the Elessar that first gave me the ability to raise Caras Galadhon when I was new to this realm and stayed under the rule of King Amroth. 

"When the Rings of Power were fashioned…Nenya for myself, Narya for great Círdan, Vilya for your father…I forgot the power of Elessar. Three havens of the Eldar were protected: Caras Galadhon and Lothlórien, the Grey Havens, and Eregion-Imladris. But the greatest of Silvan strongholds, Greenwood the Great, had nothing more than their woodland bows, nature magics, and steadfast courage. In the heat of battle, the Last Alliance…Elessar… I had forgotten of it until now. I wonder what I did with it in my self-isolation." 

"He called you the Noldor Witch." Arwen's voice was hushed as she looked down at her hands. "I do not think he hates you, Lady, but he bears no love for you either." 

A gentle hand in her hair made her relax, and when she looked up she found that Galadriel's smile had not wavered. "King Oropher, who fled the realms of Thingol to Greenwood, was a wise if not always tempered ruler. He was a distant cousin of mine, being a son of Caranthir the Black, who was son of Fëanor. I greatly mourned the passing of Oropher; he gave up much to save his people, sacrificing the Call of the Valar to bind them in strength, life, and power to Middle-earth." 

"But does that not make them of the Avari…of the Morquendi?" 

"In truth…yes. But do not ever relate them to the Yrch, for they are as different as light and dark. What Oropher did was a great sacrifice---what _all_ of his people did was a great sacrifice. However, his death in the Last Great Alliance so scarred his son, Thranduil, that he forsook all contact with the other Elvish kin, and chose isolation over shared grief. I know that there are those who have contact with him still---Horse-Lord Glorfindel, March Warden Haldir, and even your father. But he does not truly trust anyone, be they Man or Eldar, and will not until the hope of Greenwood learns to trust." 

"The hope of Greenwood?" 

"Their Morning Star, their guiding light in the darkness. He shall be a saviour in the time of coming Shadow, for he can call upon the power of Greenwood whole in a way that no Eldar can. He needs no magic ring to accomplish this; only faith in himself and the belief of his people." 

"Such a thing…" Arwen trail off, letting her head tilt back. She gazed into the interlaced tree branches, a smile playing across her lips. "He truly is much greater than the Evenstar, then." 

Galadriel looked at her sharply, but Arwen paid no mind. "To think that I was concerned with my own peace…when he is concerned with the peace of others. He has sacrificed so much of himself for others… Truly, Grandmother, he is deserving of his title." 

"Then you, too, believe in the myth of Greenwood?" 

At last Arwen looked at Galadriel, and her eyes were at last filled with understanding and grace. "There is no myth in reality." She rose to her feet and curtseyed. "Good night, Grandmother. May the Valar grant you dreams of peace." 

And with that, she left Galadriel alone in the Glen of the Mirror and returned to the festivities and her brothers' sides---filled with contentment and love. 

===============================================================

A/N: For a list of authorial conjectures that are contained within this piece, please see the Author's Notes from the previous sections. 

The first Elessar, granted to the line of Peredhil through Eärendil, was crafted by Enerdhil of Gondolin for Idril. It is supposed that Eärendil wore the Elessar upon his breast when he sailed into the skies with the Silmarils. It is said that the Elessar was then lost from Middle-earth. 

Other sources of Tolkien's devise are contradicting: There is the rise of a second Elessar. Some state that it was brought to Galadriel by Mithrandir, when he sailed to the Grey Havens as an envoy of the Valar. Another story says that, before the creation of the rings, Galadriel went to Celebrimbor and asked him to create the Elessar to preserve the beauty of Middle-earth that faded with the seasons. His Elessar was more beautiful than Enerdhil's but less powerful. It is this Elessar that she eventually passed on to Celebrian, who passed it on to Arwen, who gifted it to Aragorn. 

Celebrimbor also created Nenya specifically for Galadriel, desiring for her to have beauty and power reflected in metal and jewel, as she already was in reality. 

Lasgalen Thranduilion, Anarion = Greenleaves, Son of Thranduil, Morning Star [masculine emphasis] 


End file.
